Hell and High Water
by rebecca-in-blue
Summary: "How is it possible to heal even the worst wounds?" Ziva went through hell in Somalia, but now she's washing it away. My take on how she got over her captivity so fast.
1. A Favor

**Hell and High Water**

Wow, Ziva seemed to bounce right back after being tortured for months, didn't she? Since the show unrealistically devoted so little time to her recovery, this is my take on how she got over her captivity in Somalia so fast. Ziva went through hell, but there are waters that wash it away.

The characters break down like this: Chapters 1, 3, and 5 are Friendship!Ziva/Abby. Chapter 2 is Ziva-centric. Chapters 4, 5, and 6 are Tony/Ziva, and I tried to write their interaction so that it could be taken either as friendship (which is how I prefer them) _or _romance.

This is the first real fanfic I've ever written (seriously). I'm very excited and proud but also very nervous. Reviews are not only welcome – they're made of gold and fairy dust and win. And for those who don't know the expression, "come hell or high water" is an American idiom meaning "no matter what."

* * *

**Chapter 1  
****A Favor**

_Through many dangers, toils, and snares  
__I have already come.  
__'Twas grace that brought me safe thus far,  
__and grace will lead me home.  
_— John Newton, Amazing Grace.

Ziva practically flies down the stairs to the lab, hoping Abby hasn't already left for the day. She almost never takes the elevator anymore – there's been enough of standing still, and small enclosed spaces, and waiting – and she relishes the fast, free feeling of rushing downstairs two or three steps at a time. There are so many little things that she relishes now. That's she grateful for. How is it possible that she never noticed them before?

As the doors slide open, she finds Abby still in her lab, and in her element: her pigtails bouncing as she dances in place to the blaring music. She's fiddling with her mass spectrometer – and talking to the machine too, it seems; Ziva can see her lips moving but can't hear anything over the music. When she starts twisting her head in time to the beat, she notices Ziva and twists down the volume knob.

"Oh, hey, Ziva!" she says brightly. "I didn't think anyone else was still here. I was just getting Major Mass Spec here shut down for the night." She taps the machine and coos to it as if it's a baby, "Yes, I was, wasn't I?"

There's a pause, and even though Ziva's been rehearsing what to say in her head all day, she can't quite get the words out. When she doesn't speak or move, Abby looks concerned. "What's up?" she asks, taking a step towards her.

And just then, Ziva almost goes back to her old nervous habit of touching her Star of David necklace – but she catches herself just in time. Her hands are itching to go to her throat, but she forces them to stay still. _It's not there anymore_, she reminds them, and she suddenly wishes she had brought a pen, a slip of paper – _anything – _with her from her desk, just so her hands would have something to hold onto.

"Abby, I came to ask you... for a really big favor." That part is easy enough.

"Well..." Abby looks hesitant. "What is it? I mean, normally, I would just say yes, but see, the last time somebody asked me for a favor and I said yes without finding out what the favor was first, I spent all of last Saturday helping McGee rearrange the furniture in his apartment. And you would not believe how OCD Tim can be sometimes."

Ziva smiles at that. "I promise I will not ask you to help rearrange my furniture. The favor I need from you..." She pauses to remind herself that this is _Abby_, after all, who plays with voodoo dolls and sleeps in a coffin and has certainly heard stranger things than what Ziva's about to say. "...is basically to come with me while I take a bath."

She watches Abby closely for her reaction, but Abby just seems a little surprised, nothing worse. She smiles and says lightly, almost as if she could read Ziva's mind, "Wow, were you trying to word that in a way so it didn't sound weird?"

"Did it work?"

"No."

Ziva bites her lip. "Well, perhaps I can explain it in a way that does not sound weird. It is called a mikvah. It is a Jewish ritual. A way of... purifying your body." She looks Abby in the eye as she says this, hoping her friend will understand all the things she _isn't_ saying, like why her body needs to be purified, and what happened to her in Somalia, and how much she really needs this favor from Abby. All the things she can't say out loud.

Abby does seem to understand; she smiles, even though her eyes seem sad, and puts a hand on Ziva's shoulder. "Come sit down," she says, leading her to the couch in the back corner of her lap. They both sit down, and Abby plops her stuffed hippo into Ziva's lap. "Here, you can hold Bert. He likes you, you know." Even as a child, Ziva was never a real fan of things like stuffed animals, but it's a relief to have something to do with her hands. Before she can say anything, Abby goes on, "So tell me about a... what's it called? A mikvah?"

Ziva sums up the process as best she can. It's usually done at a temple or synagogue, where there are small pools built specifically for mikvah. Abby asks, "Oh, you mean like a baptismal pool?" and she says yes, even though, from the little she knows about Christianity, it's not really like a baptismal pool. A mikvah pool is secluded from the rest of the synagogue, because it requires you to be completely submerged in the water – and completely naked. Ziva tells Abby a woman from the synagogue will be there to make sure everything is done correctly.

"Well, then, what do you need me for?" Abby asks, looking a little puzzled. "I mean, I'm not even Jewish."

Ziva blinks and looks away, first down at the ridiculous stuffed hippo in her lap, then out the window, to the shoes of people passing by outside. No matter what time of day she visits Abby's lab, the windows are almost always full of people's legs, all walking past on their way to somewhere else. No matter what happens to her or the rest of her team, people go on with their lives. The world keeps turning.

Finally, she looks back at Abby and gets out, faintly, "I do not really need you, Abby, but... I just did not want to go alone."

Abby's eyes are suddenly very bright, as if with unshed tears, but her smile is even brighter, and she leans over and hugs Ziva hard. Ziva hears her reply, from over her shoulder, "Ziva, I'd be _honored_ to come with you. Really honored."

How is it possible that one of Abby's hugs never felt so welcome before?

* * *

The next chapter will be better, I promise. This is my first fic, after all. If you're not familiar with mikvah, I know the process might seem strange. But in fact, mikvah is a very beautiful and spiritual thing.


	2. Not Forsaken

**Chapter 2  
Not Forsaken**

_My soul belongs to God, I know._  
_I made that bargain long ago._  
_He gave me hope when hope was gone._  
_He gave me strength to journey on._  
— "Who Am I?" from _Les Misérables_.

The day before her mikvah appointment at the synagogue, Ziva spends most of the evening in her bathroom. She showers first, thoroughly, then washes and blow-dries her hair. Shaves her legs. Files and trims her nails. Washes her face with a strong exfoliating scrub. She knows that she'll have to do some of these things again tomorrow, in the synagogue's private bathroom for mikvah preparation, but she does them anyway.

The last time she spent so long in a bathroom, she was thirteen and trying to figure out how to put in a tampon. She smiles at the memory: too embarrassed to tell anyone she'd started her period, she had walked to the drug store, bought the first box of tampons she saw, shoved it into her backpack, walked home, and locked herself in the bathroom. No one disturbed her until Tali knocked on the door, crying, "Ziva! I hafta pee!"

Tali had started to dance back and forth in front of the door, her pigtails bouncing – and remembering it, Ziva thinks of Abby in her pigtails, dancing in front of her lab machines – by the time her big sister opened it. "Finally!" she said. "What took you so long?"

And even though Ziva hadn't intended to tell anyone she'd become a woman, her little sister had always been so trusting that Ziva took her hand, pulled her into the bathroom with her, and told her the secret. To her surprise, Tali was as excited as she was embarrassed. "Oh, Ziva, you're growed-up now!" she squealed. "You could have a _baby_!"

"Yeah, right," Ziva had answered. She was sitting on the toilet lid, her chin in her hands, imagining years of monthly inconvenience and cramps – while Tali was imagining the possibility of new life. How was it possible that two sisters could see the same event so differently?

"I mean, not right _now_, but someday you could. Don't you want to have a baby someday? Babies are so _sweet_," Tali went on dreamily, and remembering it, Ziva thinks of Gibbs, asking her if she ever wanted to have children. "Are you going to start doing mikvah now?"

Ziva had just shook her head. She had never done a mikvah, and she regretted it. How was it possible that she'd never even wanted to do one before, when her body and soul were aching so much to feel clean now? Perhaps if she had done one then, when Tali had suggested it, she would feel ready now.

_Or perhaps not_, she thinks as she sits on the toilet lid in the bathroom of her new DC apartment. She rests her chin in her hands and surveys all the marks that were put on her body in Somalia. The twisted scars, the burns, the – she can barely even think it – the _bite marks_. No, she would not feel ready to expose them, even if she had done a hundred mikvahs before now. And just like the memory of her first period, the stories behind her scars start to come back to her...

What she remembers most clearly is the hole in one wall of the cell where she was held captive. It was a small hole, no bigger than her fist, and the view it provided was desolate: a barren wasteland of scorching sand dunes, and in the far distance, a range of high, lonely, rocky hills. She remembers the sound of the desert wind at night, the way it screamed and moaned as if it were some angry, wild beast.

She remembers that night when Saleem came to her cell alone, without any of his men. A night when he _knew_ she was too weak from the day's torture to fight back. She remembers the crushing weight of his body on top of hers, the sickening feeling of his hands and mouth on her skin – and after he left, as she crouched on the dirty floor trying to tend to her wounds, she happened to glance out the little hole in the wall.

At first, she thought the pain in her body had effected her mind. She must be seeing things. The view outside was different. It was something she'd never seen before... wasn't it? In the hot night air, the distant, bronze-colored hills reached up to meet the clouds, and the golden sand dunes were shifting like the sea in the wind. A thousand bright, silver stars sparkled above. How was it possible that she had never seen how beautiful it was before?

And as she lay there, dumbstruck at what she was seeing, she heard a voice speaking from somewhere inside her. It was soft but perfectly clear, and as real as anything she'd ever heard. "_Ziva, unless the beauty of the Lord's creation is lost on you, then you are not lost. You are not forsaken_." Ziva, the voice had called her. She had almost forgotten she even had a name. It had been so long since she'd been called anything besides_ Jew_ or _bitch_ or _hey_.

And she remembers, later, lying on a bed with a curtain drawn around it in some African hospital. She was naked beneath the sheets; the doctor had just been, and even though Ziva knew he had come to disinfect the bite marks and stitch up all the cuts and lashes, she was still unprepared when he pulled the sheet back, exposing her body and the evidence of what had been done to it. Tony was standing a few feet outside the curtain, and she focused on the sound of his voice, still trying to convince herself that this wasn't a dream, that her teammates really had rescued her, that she wouldn't wake up any minute to find herself back in that cell. Tony was talking on the phone to someone in DC, probably Ducky, and she heard him say, "...just got her out of that God-forsaken hellhole."

If she hadn't been so weak, so dehydrated, so sore all over from more injuries than the doctors could count, then she would've pulled herself up and told Tony that she had felt the same way at first. She had thought of it as a God-forsaken hell too, until that night in her cell when she realized that even in that place, there was beauty. Even in that place, God had not forsaken her. If He had, she never would've survived.

She couldn't tell that to Tony – she didn't have the words, in any language, to explain it – but she didn't have to. It was enough just to lie there and _know_ it. To know God had not forsaken her was enough. How was it possible that it had not been enough for her before?

* * *

Okay, so maybe this chapter wasn't so much better than the first. Did you feel that something _really_ important was missing from it? I did, and don't worry, it's coming up later.


	3. Washed Clean

**Chapter 3  
****Washed Clean**

_Oh white and midnight sky, oh starry bath,  
__wash me in thy pure, heavenly crystal flood:  
cleanse me, ye stars, from earthly soil and scathe.  
__Let not one taint remain.  
_— Richard Watson Gilder, The Celestial Passion.

The next evening, as she's driving to Abby's apartment, Ziva's hands feel clammy on the steering wheel. She wants to have a mikvah – _you need one_, she reminds herself – but as much as she's looking forward to it, there's a trickle of dread running through her like poison, at the thought of exposing her body so completely. She wipes her sweaty hands on her towel (her synagogue told her to bring one) and forces her face to look calm. When she picks up Abby, she's surprised to see that her friend looks as nervous as Ziva feels.

"Okay, there's just one thing I have to know," Abby bursts out breathlessly, before Ziva can say anything. "What is the most _offensive _thing you can do inside a synagogue? See, I've never been inside one before, so I'm kinda nervous, and I'm just _so_ worried that whatever the most offensive thing you can do is, I'll somehow end up doing it. So you have to tell me what it is."

Ziva chuckles, thinking Abby must be joking, then realizes she's serious. She considers the question. "Well... I would say the most offensive thing you could do would be try to convert someone."

Abby nods. "Okay, got it. Now I feel better."

Ziva smiles. How is it possible that she almost went to mikvah alone? It's so comforting to have Abby with her, to know she's nervous too. She wonders, as she feels her muscles relax, how long she had been so tense. They drive in silence for a moment before Ziva glances back at Abby and realizes something's different. The usual studded collar is gone from her neck, and her wrists are bare. In fact...

"You're not wearing any of your jewelry," she says in surprise.

"Yeah, I know," Abby sighs, "and I feel really weird without it – " _I know what that's like_, Ziva thinks ruefully, remembering how her hands still itched to go to her necklace. "– but I didn't know if it would be, you know, respectful to wear it." She pauses and looks sideways at Ziva, her brow furrowed. "But what's even weirder is how slowly you're driving. I mean, it's not slow for a normal person. It's normal for a normal person, but for you, this is really slow."

Ziva says nothing, but her hands suddenly feel clammy against the steering wheel again.

At the last minute, as they're walking up the steps to the synagogue, she asks Abby to come into the mikvah room with her.

* * *

The synagogue's balanit, the woman who conducts the mikvahs, is an older, white-haired lady named Leah. She meets Ziva and Abby in the lobby and introduces herself, and Ziva doesn't know why, but something about her reminds her of Ducky.

"I'm not Jewish," Abby blurts out, first thing. "Is it okay that I'm here?"

Ziva looks at her. "Abby, why would I have invited you if it wasn't okay?"

Leah smiles. "Well, we do have a Gentile detector built into our entrace," she deadpans, "and usually you would've triggered the alarm when you walked in, but we've turned it off for the day." They all laugh.

As Leah leads them through the synagogue to the mikvah area, she explains more about the process to Abby. Ziva is only half listening, but she hears, "...about celebrating the body, because each of us is made in God's image. And that makes you think about what a sense of humor God must have, to know that we're all made in His image and then look at a woman like me compared to, oh, say, Angelina Jolie."

They laugh again, and Ziva is touched to realize that Leah is trying to put her at ease. Ziva told her this would be her first mikvah, and Leah must know how nervous she is. In her mind's eye, she sees Ducky at his autopsy tables, speaking to each dead body, no matter how many he encounters, with respect and compassion. Leah has probably been doing mikvahs for years, but Ziva can tell that just like Ducky, she treats every one of them with patience and understanding.

But Leah becomes all business as she runs through the list of things Ziva must do in the bathroom before the immersion; in fact, she gives her a checklist. Ziva bites her lip as she reads over it, and Leah adds, gently, "You know, I've talked to so many women who get nervous before their first mikvah. I've had young girls in here who almost can't go through with it. But I've never talked to one woman – not _one _– who said she regretted it or didn't feel better afterward."

Just before Ziva steps into the bathroom, Abby cries, "Wait! I think you're forgetting something!" and gives her another hug. "You looked like you needed this," she whispers in Ziva's ear, and Ziva wants to say thank you but can't. She doesn't trust her voice to be steady. So she just nods and hopes Abby understands.

The sight of her body no longer upsets her – not most of the time, anyway – but alone in the bathroom, Ziva realizes, for the first time, how it will look to someone who's not used to it. Leah is a balanit who takes women into mikvahs every day; she'll be disturbed by all her scars, but she'll be able to handle it. But Abby, who's always hugging people, who never accompanies them to the grisly crime scenes – she'll never look at Ziva the same way again. Ziva curses herself for inviting Abby into the mikvah room. She doesn't deserve to see how marred her body is. What if she starts crying at the sight of it? The thought fills Ziva with dread.

And just then, she hears the voice again – the voice that came to her in Somalia when she was awestruck by the beautiful, shimmering desert night. The voice that gave the message that kept her alive: "_Unless the beauty of the Lord's creation is lost on you, then you are not lost._" She hears it again now, just as clearly, but this time its message is different.

"_Ziva, if the beauty of the Lord's creation is lost on you, then you are surely lost._"

She wants to weep. She wonders, for the first time, how it's possible that she could find beauty looking out of that cell in Somalia – but can't find any looking in a mirror.

* * *

Abby and Leah are both there when she enters the mikvah room. The only sound is the calm, gentle lap of the water. Ziva is grateful for the dim lighting, but she can't help reminding herself that they can see _everything._ Her bruises have faded, but there are still the ligature marks around her neck and wrists and ankles, where her captors tied her up for days on end. The bumps on her torso, where they laid into her with their fists and left her broken ribs to heal crookedly. The dark circles of old burns here and there, where they put their cigarette butts out on her skin.

And everywhere, the scars. The neat, methodical lines criss-crossing her chest and back, where Saleem instructed his men to cut her slowly to inflict maximum pain. And the ones that Saleem himself had given her – the long, ragged scars on her inner thighs, where he used his knife to force her legs apart. Then there are the crescent-shaped bite marks he left on her breasts and shoulders.

Ziva can't bring herself to look at Abby, but out of the corner of her eye, she sees her raise her hands to her mouth as tears spill silently down her cheeks. She should not have invited her into the mikvah room. "_I'm sorry for making you see this,_" she wants to say.

Leah approaches her to lift her hair off her shoulders and brush away any stray strands. Ziva is surprised to see a tenderness in Leah's eyes as she looks at her, as if she isn't repulsed or uncomfortable with what she's seeing. She says softly, "Ziva, what happens in this room won't leave this room. It will stay between the three of us and HaShem."

_HaShem_. For a moment, it actually throws her. Then she racks her brain, trying to think of the last time she used that title, or even heard it said. She can't even remember when that was.

The water is warm. As Ziva steps into it, she realizes, for the first time, how much she's really been needing this, longing for this. It's as if she's been thirsty for months and is finally getting a drink. As the water rises over each scar and mark from Somalia, there's a sense of comfort, like an embrace, and an old tension inside her eases. When she submerges her head, the water creates a thick sound in her ears that drowns out everything else, until it becomes just her and the water – the womb of the world, as the mikvah water is called – like old friends. It feels like coming home. It feels like all the shame and pain of the past is rinsed out of her body and washed away in the water. For once, she doesn't wonder how it's possible. She's just grateful that it is.

* * *

**Important Note:** This chapter is not completely accurate about the mikvah process. The biggest difference is that here, Ziva enters the mikvah room naked. Usually, one enters the mikvah room (from a private bathroom, like Ziva, or waiting room) in a towel or bathrobe and doesn't take it off until just before stepping into the pool. I did take some artistic liberties, and in spite of Rule #6, I _sincerely_ apologize if this inaccuracy offends anyone. As I said before, mikvah is a very beautiful and spiritual thing, and I would hate for anyone to be misled about it.

_Whew_! I almost didn't make it through this chapter, it was so long and difficult to write.


	4. Almost Ready

Read This: I would have updated sooner, but my fanfiction profile was discovered by someone from my real life _whom I never intended to find it_, and for a while I considered deleting my entire account. Obviously I didn't, but everything I write from now on is tainted for me. *sigh* But on I go.

* * *

**Chapter 4  
****Almost Ready**

_I'm soon to return.  
__There's soon to be fire in my veins again.  
__I'm almost home. I'm almost ready._  
— Anno Birkin, Touched.

The next morning, for the first time since her return from Somalia, Ziva wakes up smiling. When she arrives at work, she enters the bullpen with a spring in her step and the smile still playing on her face. She doesn't know how to describe the way she's felt since her mikvah. It's like she has wings inside her. After months of feeling dirty and bitter, her skin feels clean again, almost as if Saleem had never touched it. It's not until she sits down behind her desk that she notices Tony staring at her.

"Zee-vah, what did you do last night?" Tony asks her slowly, and Ziva can't quite name the expression on his face as he says it. He seems curious, suspicious, satisfied, and... _happy_ for her, all at once.

She knows Abby didn't tell him anything, so how is it possible that he can see the change in her so easily? But then, Ziva reminds herself, Tony's always been able to sense her moods. The real question is – how is it possible that she's still surprised by this, after all these years?

"Tony, as my partner in the field, you are entitled to know many things about me," she answers smoothly, still smiling, "but what a person did last night is their own business."

"Fine, don't tell me. It's obvious, anyway." Tony leans back in his chair, and there's now no mistaking the smug look on his face. "I know that look on your face. I've felt it on my face – it's the euphoric look you get after you've watched a really _perfect_ movie for the first time. Come on, what movie was it? No, wait," he says quickly, holding up one hand as Ziva opens her mouth. "Don't tell me, let me guess. Was it... _Casablanca_? No, that's not it. Was it... _Chinatown_, maybe?"

Ziva smirks. Perhaps Tony doesn't know her quite _that_ well. "What makes you so sure I watched a movie last night, Tony?"

"Well, what else could make you look so happy? I know you didn't help McInterior Decorator rearrange his furniture, because Abs already did that last weekend."

From his desk, McGee sighs. "I specifically asked Abby not to mention that to you."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Probie, she almost didn't. I had to bribe it out of her with Caf-Pow." Tony turns back to Ziva, who smiles at him – a real smile this time, one as bright as she feels inside.

"Tony, even if I tell you what I did last night, you wouldn't believe me." At that, she can actually see fighting to keep control over his curiosity.

"Oh, really? Try me! Come on, tell me anything."

"Dead petty officer in Georgetown," comes Gibbs's voice. He strides into the bullpen as if on cue, coffee cup in hand, as always. "That qualify as anything, DiNozzo?"

"On it, boss," says Tony automatically. He, Ziva, and McGee grab their gear, and their conversation is dropped for the moment.

* * *

They're in the elevator when Tony mentions it again. Ziva is going to autopsy to see Ducky, who's still trying to pinpoint an exact time of death on Petty Officer Doyle, while Tony is headed to Abby's lab.

"You know, Ziva," says Tony, looking straight ahead, "when I worked as a cop, I once got this 911 call, a woman saying that a pissed-off midget in a tuxedo had just kicked her door in. No kidding."

Ziva stares at him, confused. She's considering her response – she doesn't know whether to say that she doesn't believe him, or to ask him why he's telling her this – when Tony goes on.

"See, my point here is that I've heard some pretty strange things in my life, so whatever it was you did last night, I'll probably believe it. Unless, you know, you got attacked by a pissed-off midget in a tuxedo."

For a moment, Ziva considers telling Tony everything. It's just the two of them in the elevator, and she could so easily hit the emergency brake and explain what a mikvah is, just like she did with Abby, and tell him how coming up from the water was almost like being reborn. The new feeling of purity inside her is so strong, she wants to talk about it with somebody. Tony might have a big mouth sometimes, but Ziva knows she could trust him with this. "_You have always had my back._"

But in the next moment, Ziva pushes the idea away. Tony knows her too well. If she tells him that a mikvah is a way of purifying your body, he'll know – not just suspect, as he does now, but _know_ – the worst of what happened to her in Somalia. And even as better as she's felt since her mikvah, she's still not ready to talk about that. Almost, but not yet. It was hard enough to tell it to Abby, and she never even said the words to Abby. She just let her see the signs of it on her body...

Ziva feels another pang of guilt for inviting Abby into mikvah room; she hadn't realized how much it would upset her. And Abby wasn't in Somalia – she didn't see the state Ziva was in when the team found her. She didn't hear the words Tony said when he saw she was still alive. "_Couldn't live without you._" No, she can't tell Tony about her mikvah. There's still too much they haven't talked about. They're not ready yet.

But at the same time, she doesn't want to lie to him. So she puts on her most teasing smile and gives him just a slice of the truth. "Would you believe me," she asks slyly, "if I said I let Abby see me naked?"

She glances sideways at him, and just then, the elevator doors slide open with a ding. Ziva heads for autopsy and leaves Tony in the elevator, still rooted to the spot, his mouth hanging open just slightly. The expression on his face is priceless, and in spite of herself, Ziva has to smile as he finally works through his disbelief enough to call after her.

"You... let Ab – you did not. Did you? I don't – you would never – you don't mean..." Then comes the sound of his feet pounding the floor, as he runs full-speed for Abby's lab. "_Abs_!" he bellows.

* * *

Author's Note: I know it's an abrupt ending. Chapters 4 and 5 were originally written as one chapter, but it got too long, so I had to chop it in half somewhere. And I sincerely hope that no midgets/dwarves/little people/preferred term were offended.


	5. Understanding

**Chapter 5  
****Understanding**

_Through the years, there were times when I just couldn't tell you.  
__Now we've come to an understanding, and I'm sorry that it took so long.  
__I have lost love. I have found love.  
_— Julian Lennon, Cole's Song.

When Ziva comes out of autopsy, she starts upstairs for the interrogation room, where Gibbs and McGee are talking to one of Petty Officer Doyle's co-workers. Ducky told her that Doyle had been dead for twenty-four hours before his body was found, which means...

She forgets about the case as she spots Tony in the hall. He's pacing back and forth, holding a Caf-Pow in one hand and tapping his fingers against the side of the cup, clearly deep in thought. Ziva knows he's just come from the lab, and she wonders, briefly, if Abby told him anything about her mikvah last night. But then she remembers what Leah said just before she stepped into the water. "_It won't leave this room. It will stay between the three of us and HaShem._" Abby understands that. Besides, she reminds herself grimly, judging from the way Abby started crying in the mikvah room, it's probably not something she even wants to talk about.

Tony doesn't look up as she approaches, which tells her how preoccupied he really is. It's not until she's standing next to him that he notices her, cocks his side to one side, and asks, "What did you do, Zee-vah? Did you tell Abby you'd kill with her a paperclip if she talked?"

"Why? What did she tell you?" Ziva asks slowly.

"She didn't tell me anything!" Tony explodes, looking frustrated, and Ziva's face relaxes into a broad smile. "And I tried everything I knew to get her to talk – I tried bribing her, I offered her Caf-Pow, I even said I'd buy her a dozen of those chocoholic cupcake thingies she loves, but she wouldn't tell me one thing. She just got all choked up and said she was worried you didn't..."

_All choked up_. Ziva doesn't understand it right away. Abby was choking? But then she remembers it's one of those idioms that's always confusing her. She didn't actually choke; she got emotional or started crying, and suddenly Ziva feels terrible. She didn't think that seeing the signs of everything her body had been through would upset Abby so much that she'd still be crying over it. She had wanted to apologize last night, in the mikvah room, but she hadn't. Tony is still talking, but she's stopped listening and is barely aware of him following her as she turns and heads for Abby's lab.

Abby is leaning over the table, examining the blood-spattered shirt Doyle was wearing at the crime scene, when Ziva rushes in with Tony hard on her heels. She's barely had time to turn around when Ziva gets out, "Abby... I'm sorry."

Abby blinks at her, puzzled. "Ziva, rule number six," she reminds her. Tony, obviously hoping one of them will say something to confirm if Abby really did see Ziva naked, begins sipping the Caf-Pow in his hand. He looks back and forth between them, listening eagerly.

Ziva shakes her head. "I still owe you an apology. When I asked you to come in, I did not realize how much it would upset you, and..."

"Upset?" Abby looks even more puzzled. "Who told you I was upset?"

"Last night... well, you were crying. I saw you."

"Ziva, you don't really think..." Abby begins, looking shocked. "You see, this is just what I told Tony. Didn't I tell you this, Tony?"

"Yes, and it was the _only _thing you'd tell me," Tony sighs.

"Oh no, you've got it all wrong, Ziva, and now you're going to make me start tearing up again." Her eyes grow bright, and she frantically fans her face with her hands. "No, I wasn't because I was _upset_. I was crying because last night, it was the most – one of the most beautiful, powerful, spiritual things I've ever seen..."

"What was? What did you see?" Tony presses, still dying to know, but Abby ignores him.

"...and I know you think I was doing you a favor by coming with you, but I think _you_ were doing _me _a favor by letting me be there, because I feel _so_ honored to have been there..."

"To have been where?" Tony interrupts again. Abby doesn't even pause this time.

"...and I told Tony I was worried you didn't know that, and you know what Tony said? He said... oh, thank you, Tony." She finally stops the flood of words as Tony offers her a tissue, and she dabs at her eyes with it. "Oh, that reminds me. I'm not going to tell you anything, Tony, but I think you should continue trying to bribe me with cupcakes and Caf-Pow – you know, just in case."

Ziva doesn't know what to say. How is it possible that she so completely misunderstood Abby's reaction? And how is it possible that Abby found her body, with all its scars, so beautiful that she was moved to tears by it? But even as she asks herself the question, Ziva knows the answer. She found it beautiful for the same reason that Ziva woke up smiling this morning: last night, her body was cleansed. Everything that happened to it in the past was washed away. Ziva remembers the voice she first heard that night in Somalia. "_Unless the beauty of the Lord's creation is lost on you, then you are not lost_." Her throat aches, and she realizes she's holding back a sob. She quickly focuses on Abby's voice to distract herself.

"...because even if I could tell you, I never would," Abby's saying to Tony. "It's way too much fun watching you try to figure it out. Look at him, Ziva, this is about to drive him crazy."

Ziva looks back at Tony and has to laugh at his confused, insanely curious expression. She can practically hear him trying, unsuccessfully, to put the pieces together in his mind. _Okay, it was beautiful and powerful and spiritual, and Abs was there, and she was crying... but it also involved Ziva naked? What..._

Tony stops looking bewildered long enough to glare at them. "Well, you won't think it's funny when it actually _does_ drive me crazy and I land in the nuthouse. Who'll be your senior field agent then, huh? McGoo? Yeah, it won't be so funny _then_."

"Sorry, Tony," says Abby sweetly, "but wild horses couldn't drag it from me."

"I have never understood that saying," Ziva says. "Why would wild horses want to know? And even if they did, how would they have the means of extracting the information from you?"

Before Tony or Abby can explain it to her, the lab doors slide open again. They turn to see Gibbs stride in, looking impatient. Tony and Ziva suddenly remember that he's been waiting for them to report back to him with details on Doyle's death. Abby seems oblivious.

"Gibbs, what are you doing here?" she asks. "I'm still processing this blood splatter. I don't have anything for you yet."

Gibbs gives her one of his looks. "Correction, you have two of my agents, and they have a case to solve. You two forget about our dead petty officer?" He looks pointedly at Tony and Ziva.

"Boss, we were just on our way back up," Tony insists. As he and Ziva follow Gibbs out of the lab, Abby yanks the cup of Caf-Pow from Tony's hand – "I'll hang onto this, thank you, Tony" – and Tony smiles at Ziva behind Gibbs's back. It's like they're two little kids who have just gotten in trouble. It's like old times.

* * *

I hope this chapter produced a few LOL's. Funny scenes are so hard for me to write. If you're wondering what Tony said to Abby, don't worry, you'll find out. The next chapter will be the last one. (There's a light at the end of the tunnel!) It will also be _pure_ Tiva.


	6. Peace

**Chapter 6  
****Peace**

_Thus I have become in his eyes  
__like one finding peace.  
_— Song of Solomon, The Bible.

That evening, as she's getting ready to head out for the day, Ziva decides to pick up a thank-you card for Abby on her way home. She tries to think of a good message to write on it as she straightens her desk and pulls on her coat. _Something that is sincere but does not sound sleazy. No... not sleazy. Cheesy. Does not sound cheesy._

When she turns from her desk to start down the stairs, she stops short. Outside the bullpen windows, the sun is setting, casting a golden glow on the waters of the Anacostia, as the sky fades from amber to blue. The evening star, just visible on the horizon, winks at her in the twilight, like they share a secret. Ziva exhales slowly, and her breath is almost a prayer, an exultation of thanks. She looks out these windows almost every day, but she hasn't actually _seen _the view in years, not since she first joined NCIS. How is it possible that she had come to take this for granted?

Ziva doesn't know how long she stands there staring, leaning against the railing of the stairs, before she feels someone approach and lean against the railing beside her. He doesn't say a word, and she doesn't turn her eyes from the window, but she knows it's Tony. She recognizes the sound of his breath and the warmth of his body next to hers, as clearly as if she had looked him in the face. For a long moment, they both stand there in silence, neither wanting to break the spell, as the sun sinks lower and stars come out.

"So... enjoying the view?" Tony asks, finally, and they both smile.

Ziva looks at him, then back to the window, to the panorama of DC stretching out before them. "I had gotten so used to what a view we have from these windows, I almost stopped noticing it," she says. "I am trying not to do that anymore."

"You're trying not to not look out the windows anymore?" Tony asks quizzically. Ziva suspects he knows that she's not talking about the windows, but he's trying to keep the conversation light.

"I am trying not to take the things around me for granted anymore," she answers quietly. "I did that far too much – before." Her voice catches, just slightly, on the word _before_. She doesn't have to say before what. They both know.

"Well, you weren't the only one," says Tony. "I mean... I know what it's like to get so used to something being there, you think it'll always be there. And then one day, when suddenly it's not there, it's like the whole world is changed."

Now they both know he isn't talking about the windows. They fall silent again, as words from the past find their way to the front of Ziva's mind. _The sultry and emotionally distant Mossad officer. Some totally emotionless perfect warrior. That part of you died out there._ She's always been brave – fearless, even – and she's always prided herself on that. But this will require a different kind of bravery.

"When I was in Somalia..." She begins, then pauses, waiting for Tony to tense up or draw back from her. But his relaxed posture against the railing doesn't change, and Ziva can tell he's trying not to make her nervous. He knows that she needs to say this. "...even there, I found there was beauty around me. If you knew where to look for it."

Ziva almost tells him about the view she found outside her cell – so different from the view outside the bullpen windows, but somehow, just as beautiful, with the way even the desert air seemed to glow – on the night when the voice said God had not forsaken her. She had wanted to tell him in the hospital... but a new peace settles inside her as she realizes she doesn't need to. Tony has known all along that she was never forsaken in Somalia, because he was one of ones who had never forsaken her, never turned his back on her. Hadn't he traveled halfway across the world to find her and bring her home?

"You were never broken... were you?" Tony asks incredulously, his hushed voice bringing her back to the present. He's staring at her openly now, almost in awe.

They've almost been talking more with their silences than with their words, because they both know so well what the other really wants to say. But this time, Ziva doesn't understand what Tony means.

"They never broke you," he explains. "I mean, I was only in that nightmare for a few days. If you could be there for weeks, and not only survive it, but come back and say you saw beautiful things there... well, in my humble O, Ziva, they never broke you. They just made you stronger."

He raises his head, and she feels honored that he's looking at her with obvious admiration. The voice she heard in Somalia had told her she was not lost, not forsaken. But not broken? That had never occurred to her. But maybe Tony is right. Maybe that voice belonged to her, to the one part of her Saleem hadn't broken. And maybe if _she_ was never broken, then what she and Tony had was never broken, either. But how is that possible?

Ziva's breath feels ragged, like she can't breathe, as the memories of everything that happened between them come rushing back at her. _Tony lying on her floor, his arm broken, as Michael's blood soaked into the carpet. The pain on his face when she knocked him to the ground and pressed her gun into him in Tel Aviv._ In some ways, they hurt even worse than the memories of what happened to her in Somalia. But no, they're not broken, not yet. Hadn't her mikvah proved that even the worst wounds could be healed? It had given her a feeling of renewal that she hadn't thought possible.

"What did you say to Abby?" Ziva asks suddenly.

"Hm? When?" Tony quickly looks away from her, back out the window. He's pretending not to know what she's talking about, and Ziva can sense that whatever he said to Abby, he's reluctant to repeat it to her.

"Earlier today," she reminds him. Tony hesitates, and it occurs to Ziva that maybe she doesn't _want_ to know what he said to Abby. But she barrels on anyway. If she and Tony are ever going to heal – the way her mikvah had healed her – then they have to talk about this, at least. "When you were in her lab, what did you say?"

For a second, it's so quiet they could hear a pin drop. Ziva can't remember when there's ever been such silence in the bullpen. Then the only sound is Tony taking a deep breath as he turns away from the window and looks her in the eye.

"I said whatever you did last night, it seemed to bring you peace. That right?" Ziva nods, even though she doesn't need to. Tony knows it's right; he could tell from the moment she walked into the bullpen that morning, he knows her so well. "And I said that was all that mattered."

She raises one eyebrow at him. "And you're not still dying to know the details about what exactly Abby and I did?"

"Oh, I'll admit I'm still incredibly curious," Tony answers easily, "but I think I can resign myself to not knowing." He pauses, then leans his head in a little closer to hers and repeats, firmly, "If it brought you peace, that's all that matters. And I'm happy for you, Ziva. But I guess it's a safe bet you and Abs didn't watch a movie last night, did you?"

She smiles and nods. "A safe bet, yes."

"Good," Tony says, "because I think the only way to remedy that is for you to watch a movie with me tonight." He flashes his brightest grin, the one that Ziva never could resist. "Have you ever seen... let's see, how about _It Happened One Night_? It's been called the original romantic comedy, you know."

As they descend the stairs together, Ziva is not aware of the smile slowly spreading across her face. But by the time she and Tony have reached the bottom, she's beaming so hard it hurts. She _knows _now – knows as surely as she's ever known anything – that there's no such thing as a lost cause. Nothing can be so hurt so badly that it can't be healed. When they leave the Navy Yard, Tony gently takes her hands in his; there's such peace in his touch, and Ziva knows that she will never stop being amazed by all that is possible in this world.

**FIN**

* * *

Author's Note for Chapter 6: Wow, this chapter was harder to write than all the others put together! I think it was because Tony is more serious and thoughtful in it, and that's a side of him we don't often see on the show. I know it drags in some places, but there were a lot of things I felt Tony and Ziva needed to realize and talk about.

Author's Note for the Story: Well, so I come to the end of my first fanfiction ever. What a long, strange, wonderful trip it's been. One of the central themes of this story (the idea that we can find beauty anywhere, if we know how to look for it) is a philosophy I try to live by, so this hit very close to home for me in some ways. And I am **blown away **by all the positive reviews I've received for this story! As I've said before, halfway through writing this, my fanfiction profile was discovered by some from my real life whom I hadn't wanted to find it. I almost abandoned this story and deleted my entire account, but because of your feedback, I decided to keep going. I can never say thank you enough! :)


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